


What's in a Home?

by NotALemon



Series: A Two-Man, One-Angel Operation (Supernatural Rewritten) [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Missouri Moseley, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s01e09 Home, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural) Knows Things, Gabriel and Sam Winchester in Love, M/M, Protective Gabriel (Supernatural), Psychic Abilities, Psychic Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24845701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: “Jig’s up, sugar,” Gabriel says. He takes Sam’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly.Sam sighs, facing Dean, a touch defensive in his posture. Dean looks at him, giving him a little head shake. Sam looks to the side. “I have these nightmares,” he begins, squeezing Gabriel’s hand back.Dean nods. “I’ve noticed.”“And sometimes… they come true,” Sam says.Dean lets that sink in for a moment, a confused and somewhat disbelieving smile crossing his face. “Come again?” he asks.
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: A Two-Man, One-Angel Operation (Supernatural Rewritten) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643980
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83





	What's in a Home?

She screams for help. She screams for help, hands slamming against the window, and no one’s there to hear her but Sam.

Sam awakens with a gasp and snaps into a sitting position, trying to force air into his lungs. He looks around the dark motel room. Dean’s asleep in the bed across the room, and Gabriel’s by his side.

“Sammich,” Gabriel says, brushing Sam’s hair from his face. “Did you get another one?”

Sam nods, gasping for breath. 

Gabriel presses his fingers to Sam’s temple, draining the tension from him. “Go back to the land of dreams, cupcake. I’ll keep you safe now, and we can talk about this later, okay?”

Sam nods again, scooting closer to Gabriel.

-

While Dean’s on the laptop in the morning, Sam’s drawing a picture of a tree on a makeshift sketchpad made out of a pad of cheap motel stationary, Gabriel on the bed next to him. He compares two different inked trees, showing them to Gabriel with a questioning look.

“Alright, I’ve been cruisin’ some websites,” Dean says, gazing at a website. “I think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali— its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Dean looks up at Sam, paying more attention to the sketchpad than Dean. “Hey,” he says.

Sam looks up from the drawing. 

“Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No, I’m listening,” Sam says, returning to his drawings. “Keep going.” Gabriel watches him draw, head cocked to the side.

Dean taps his own pen against the motel desk a couple times in annoyance before returning to the laptop. “And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.” Dean puts up three fingers, excluding his pointer finger and thumb, looks at Sam, scowls, and waves his hand o try catching Sam’s attention. “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam flips between his drawings, then furrows his brows in confusion. “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“You have?” Gabriel asks.

“Seen what?” Dean asks.

Sam gets off the bed and digs through his duffel bag.

Dean sips his coffee, concerned about his brother but still slightly annoyed. “What are you doing?”

Sam roots through John’s journal until he finds a family photo where he’s a baby, then compares the tree in the photo to his drawing. They’re the same tree, different only due to Sam’s lack of drawing skills.

Gabriel raises his eyebrows at Sam.

“Dean, I know where we have to go next,” Sam says, facing his brother.

“Where?” Dean asks.

“Back home— back to Kansas.”

Dean scoffs, then realizing that Sam’s serious, he raises his eyebrows. “Okay, random,” he says. “Where’d that come from?”

Sam crosses the room and sets the childhood photo on the desk. Dean picks it up. “Alright, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where mom died?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, blankly.

“And it didn’t burn down, right?” Sam asks. “I mean, not completely; they rebuilt it, right?”

“I guess so, yeah,” Dean says. He gives Sam a look. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Dean-O, you’re gonna think this’s all sorts of cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, but the people who live in your childhood house— they’re in some big danger,” Gabriel says.

Dean gives Gabriel a look next. “Why would you guys think that?” Dean asks.

“Uh… it’s just, um… look, just trust me on this, okay?” Sam starts to walk away.

Dean follows after him. “Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?” He asks, tense and annoyed.

“Yeah,” Sam says. He’s already picked up his duffel bag and is packing up.

“Come on, man, that’s weak,” Dean says. “You gotta give me a little bit more than that.”

“I can’t really explain it, is all,” Sam says. He’s still packing his duffel bag, frantic and uncomfortable.

“Well, tough,” Dean says, stubbornly, arms spread. “I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do.” He waits, expectant.

Sam looks at Gabriel.

“Jig’s up, sugar,” Gabriel says. He takes Sam’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

Sam sighs, facing Dean, a touch defensive in his posture. Dean looks at him, giving him a little head shake. Sam looks to the side. “I have these nightmares,” he begins, squeezing Gabriel’s hand back.

Dean nods. “I’ve noticed.”

“And sometimes… they come true,” Sam says. He looks at Gabriel, unable to look at his brother, terrified of the reaction. 

Dean lets that sink in for a moment, a confused and somewhat disbelieving smile crossing his face. “Come again?” he asks.

“Look, Dean… I dreamt about Gabriel’s attack— for days before it happened.”

Dean looks at Sam for a moment. “Sam, people have weird dreams, man,” Dean says. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” He sits on a bed, looking up at Sam as he rationalizes the situation. 

“No, I dreamt about him on the ceiling, the fire, everything— and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cuz I didn’t believe it.” Sam looks at Gabriel. “And, I mean, thank God he didn’t actually die, because I wouldn’t know what to do if he did.”

Dean looks at them, confused.

“And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man. This has to mean something, right?” He looks at Dean, then at Gabriel, desperate for an answer.

“I don’t know,” Dean says, looking confused.

“You don’t— What do you mean you don’t know, Dean?” Sam sits down across from Dean, frantic now in both his voice and movements, almost yelling in his desperation. Gabriel sits next to him, nestled against his side. “This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be Yellow-Eyes!”

Gabriel rests his head on Sam’s shoulder.

“Alright, just slow down, would ya?” Dean stands from the bed and begins pacing the room. He lets out a laugh, an action that’s self-soothing and disbelieving, looking at his brother like he’s completely unsure of. “I mean, first of all, you tell me that you’ve got the Shining?” Dean gestures to Sam. “And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when…”

“When what?” Sam asks.

“When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?” Dean asks, voice thick with emotion. He looks anywhere but Sam.

“Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure,” Sam says, softly, in that voice he uses on small, scared children. He stands from the bed. Gabriel strokes his hand, reassuring.

“I know we do,” Dean says.

-

Dean parks in front of the Winchester house, staring at it. He hasn’t seen this house since he was a child, and now that he’s looking at it with his adult eyes, he’s trying to find the differences between reality and memory in a weird game of spot-the-difference he’s playing with himself. Either way, he loses.

“You gonna be alright, man?” Sam asks.

“Let me get back to you on that,” Dean says. He gets out of the car. Sam and Gabriel follow him. 

Dean knocks on the door.

The woman from Sam’s dream answers it. Sam almost takes a step back in shock, eyes completely fixed on her and nothing else.

“Yes?” Jenny asks.

Dean begins his usual spiel. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—”

“I’m Sam Winchester, this is my boyfriend Gabriel, a—and this is my brother, Dean. We— um, Dean and me— used to live here,” Sam interrupts, all his sentences ending in breathy little pauses, more like he’s trailing off at the ends than finishing them. He sounds like a terrified, nervous child again.. “You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

“Winchester,” Jenny says, like she recognizes the name. “Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I— I think I found some of your photos the other night.”

“You did?” Dean asks.

Jenny nods and moves aside to allow them in. “Come on in,” she says.

The group wanders inside. Gabriel looks around the house with interest, Dean with that surreal moment of visiting a place you used to love as a child. Sam has no memories of this house, just his strange vision.

In the kitchen, there’s Jenny’s daughter, Sari, doing homework at the table, and Ritchie, a jumpy toddler, in his playpen.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” Ritchie chants.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie,” Jenny explains. She opens the little buckle on the refrigerator door, takes out a sippy cup, and hands it to Ritchie, who takes it in one of his fat little toddler hands. “But, hey, at least he won’t get scurvy.” Jenny walks over to Sari at the table. “Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and their friend Gabriel. They used to live here.”

“Hi,” Sarai says. She’s quiet and polite, holding a pink pencil in her hand. 

Dean waves. 

“Hey, Sari,” Sam says.

Gabriel smiles at her. “Hi, kiddo.”

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, from Wichita,” Jenny says.

“You got family here, or…?”

“No,” Jenny says. “I just, uh… uh, needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job— I mean, as soon as I find one—, new house.”

“So, how you likin’ it so far?” Sam asks, oddly stilted.

Jenny picks up a couple glasses and puts them in the sink. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home— I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here.”

Dean smiles weakly, more of a grimace than anything.

“But this place has its issues,” Jenny continues.

“What do you mean?” Sam asks.

“Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

“That’s sucky,” Gabriel says. “What else?”

“Um… sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement,” Jenny continues. She pauses for a moment, leaning against the counter and watching the me. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”

“No,” Dean says, not offended. “Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?” he asks.

“It’s just the scratching, actually,” Jenny says.

“Mom?” Sari asks. Jenny kneels down next to her. “Ask them if it was here when they lived here,” Sari whispers to her mother. 

“What, Sari?” Sam asks.

“The thing in my closet,” Sari says, completely serious.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets,” Jenny says. She looks to the three men in her kitchen. “Right?”

“Right,” Sam says. “No, no, of course not.”

“She had a nightmare the other night,” Jenny says.

“I wasn’t dreaming,” Sari insists. “It came into my bedroom— and it was on fire.” She looks at the three men in the kitchen, her face open with that childlike honesty.

The Winchester brothers are shocked.

-

They walk back to the Impala.

“You hear that?” Sam asks, fast and frantic. He’s holding Gabriel as closely as he can. It would be painful, for a mortal, but Gabriel doesn’t care. “A figure on _fire_.”

“And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” Sam says. 

“She’s talking about scratching and flickering lights. Malevolent spirit, huh?” Gabriel comments.

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true,” Dean says, sharp.

Sam stops walking, eyes wide.”Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house— do you think it’s Yellow Eyes?”

“I don’t know!” Dean says.

Sam rests his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders. “Gabe, I know you don’t like to interfere with us, but… do you think it could be Yellow Eyes? Did you— sense it, or see it, or feel _anything_?”

Gabriel sides his hands into his pockets. “Sam, baby, there’s something in that house. It’s not Yellow Eyes, from what I can tell. There’s something bad in there. Poltergeist or something. And then— I don’t know what it is, but there’s this _feeling_ —”

“Wait a minute, what do you _mean_ you don’t know what it is?” Dean asks.

Gabriel side-eyes Dean. “I know there’s a possible poltergeist. There’s something else, and I _don’t know what it is_. It’s like it’s— hiding, or something. It doesn’t want to be _found_.”

“Uh, aren’t you some sorta all-powerful archangel that can, oh, I don’t know, _build invisible walls_ and _fly_ and shit, and you can’t tell what one little ghostie is?” 

“Dean,” Sam hisses. “Now is _not_ the time for you to start fights. There is a woman and _children_ in there in danger, and we have to get ‘em out of that house.”

“And we will,” Dean says. He starts walking away.

“No, I mean _now_ ,” Sam insists.

Dean swings around. “And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she’s gonna believe?” Dean asks.

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

-

The Impala’s sitting in a gas station, Sam and Gabriel huddled together in the back. Gabriel’s taken over his boyfriend duties— to soothe and comfort— the best he can while Dean’s nearby.

“We just gotta chill out, that’s all. You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?” Dean asks. He’s leaning on top of the Impala, talking to Sam and Gabriel through the open window.

Sam sighs then takes in a deep breath. “We’d try to figure out what we’re dealin’ with,” he says. “We’d dig into the history of the house.”

“Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened,” Dean says.

“Yeah, but how much do we know?” Sam asks, leaning further into Gabriel. HE looks up at Dean, feeling small “I mean, how much do you actually remember?”

“About that night, you mean?” Dean asks, pulling away from the Impala to meet Sam’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Sam says.

“Not much,” Dean says. ”I remember the fire… the heat.” He pauses, just breathing for a moment, trying his best to remember everything and appear unaffected. “And then I carried you out the house.” Dean looks at Sam over his shoulder.

“You did?” Sam asks, quiet.

“Yeah. What, you never knew that?”

Sam shakes his head. “No.”

“And, uh, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do,” Dean continues, doing his best to appear unphased, the pauses in his speech ruining his efforts. “Mom was… was on the ceiling. And Yellow Eyes was long gone by the time Dad found her. Course, he didn’t _know_ it was Yellow Eyes, but…”

“So, you guys gotta figure out sorta Scooby-Doo villain’s in your house now and see if ol’ Yellow Eyes is back on the block,” Gabriel says. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. He rests his hand on the Impala’s door, fingers near the door lock. “We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

After a moment of silence, Sam speaks up.

“Does this feel like just another job to you?”

Dean lets go of the door. “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” He walks away and turns a corner, standing next to the bathroom door while he takes out his cell phone. After double-checking no one can see him, he dials John’s number.

“This is John Winchester. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean, at 866=907-3235,” John’s voicemail says, the words and tone so familiar to him by this time.

“Dad?” Dean asks, sounding like a child who misses his father more than anything else in the world. “I know I’ve left you messages before. I don’t even know if you’ll get ‘em.” He clears his throat. “But I’m with Sam and—” he takes a breath— “and we’re in Lawrence. And there’s somethin’ in our old house. I don’t know if it’s the thing that killed Mom or not, but…” Dean’s voice breaks, and he has to stop, trying to pull himself together and not get emotional. “I don’t know what to do.” Dean begins to cry, a broken man, just for that moment. “So, whatever you’re doin’, if you could get here. Please. I need your help, Dad,” he pleads. He hangs up, tears still in his eyes, and stands for a moment, wishing more than anything that he knew what to do.

-

Demon monkey claps.

Plumber loses arm in drain.

The house is unsafe.

-

At Guenther’s Auto Repair, the Winchesters and Gabriel talk to the owner of the garage, Geunther himself.

“So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?” Dean asks, following behind him..

“Yeah, we used to, a long time ago,” Geunther says. He reaches for a rag, rubbing his hands clean. “Matter of fact, it must be, uh… twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?”

“We’re re-opening some of our unsolved cases, cold cases, and the Winchester disappearance is somethin’ we’re interested in,” Gabriel says. He flashes Geunther a charming smile. 

“Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?”

“Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind,” Dean suggests.

“Well…,” Geunther begins, as a man welds nearby, “he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that.” He laughs. “And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It’s that whole Marine thing.” 

Sam and Dean nod at that.

“But, uh— oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids.”

“But that was before the fire?” Sam asks. 

“That’s right,” Geunther confirms, the fond smile dropping from his face. Tragedy changes people on a fundamental level, makes them into completely different people. Geunther witnessed this firsthand when it came to John Winchester.

“Did he, uh, ever talk ‘bout that night after, or—?” Gabriel asks.

“Nah, not at first.” Geunther thumbs at his chin. “I think he was in shock.”

“Right,” Sam says. “But eventually? What did he say about it?”

“Oh, he wasn’t thinkin’ straight,” Geunther says. He looks at the ground, smiling to himself at the absurdity of the situation before returning to his serious look. “He said, uh— he said somethin’ caused that fire and killed Mary.”

“He ever say what did it?” Dean asks.

“Nothin’ did,” Geunther says, forehead pinching together. “It was an accident— an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin’,” he dismisses. “I begged him to get some help, but…” he shakes his head.

“But what?” Gabriel prods.

“Oh, he just got worse and worse,” Geunther says.

“How?” Dean asks.

“Oh, he started readin’ these strange ol’ books. He started goin’ to see this palm reader in town.”

“A palm reader? You got a name?” Gabriel asks.

“No,” Geunther scoffs.

-

The Impala’s parked by a payphone. Sam looks through a massive phonebook, Gabriel by his side, hand in Sam’s back pocket.

“So, of psychics and palm readers,” Gabriel says, reading the phonebook from Sam’s side. “There’s an El Divino. And—” he laughs— “the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky. A Missouri Moseley, some guy named—”

“Wait, wait, Missouri Moseley?” Dean asks.

“What?” Sam asks, looking up from the book.

“That’s a psychic?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam says. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Dean goes in the backseat and pulls out John’s journal, closing the door with a creak. “In Dad’s journal… here, look at this.” He opens up the first page and slides it to Sam and Gabriel. “First page, first sentence, read that.”

“‘I went to Missouri and I learned the truth’,” Sam reads. 

Dean shrugs. “I always thought he meant the state.”

-

Inside of Missouri Moseley’s house, the Winchesters and Gabriel sit on her couch, watching her escort a man out of the house.

“Alright, there,” Missouri says to him as she walks him out. She’s got a sweet, motherly voice, tinged with a southern accent, the type of voice that instantly makes you relax and think of Sunday afternoons and the slow pull of thick, sweet tea. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” 

The man thanks her. She closes the door behind him.

Missouri leans against the closed door. “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener,” shei says, walking away from the door.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asks.

“People don’t come here for the truth,” Missouri says. “They come for good news.”

Gabriel nods in agreement.

“Well? Sam and Dean and Gabriel, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” Missouri leaves the room, entering another, doorway partially covered by a beaded curtain.

Sam and Dean share a confused look, following behind her. Gabriel follows them, eyebrows raised.

“Well, lemme look at ya.” Missouri admires the Winchesters, laughing in delight. It’s a good, kindly sound from her. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome!” She points a many-ringed finger at Dean. “And _you_ were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” 

Dean glares at her while Sam and Gabriel smirk. 

“Sam.” Missouri grabs his hand, beaming at him with a dazzling smile. “Oh, honey, congratulations on your boyfriend. You two had a big scare, didn’t you?”

Sam blinks at her.

“And your father— he’s missin’?”

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asks, mouth suddenly very dry. He glances at Dea, then at Gabriel. Gabriel just offers him a shrug.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now,” Missouri replies, her voice soft and sweet. 

Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know,” Missouri admits.

“Don’t know?” Dean asks, irritable. “Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?”

Missouri looks at him, affronted. “Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician?” she asks, sharply. Her voice holds cutting words just as well as it holds kind ones. Sam smirks at his brother’s full chewing out. “I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please.”

Sam’s still smirking at Dean as they sit down.

Missouri snaps at Dean. “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, Imma whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dean protests.

“But you were thinkin’ about it,” Missouri says.

Dean raises his eyebrows. Sam smiles. Gabriel laughs.

“Oh, don’t you laugh, archangel,” Missouri says to Gabriel. “We don’t have time to get into everything you’ve gotten up to, but it’s givin’ me enough of a headache without even talkin’ about it, and we don’t have time for any of that, neither.”

Gabriel freezes. “You know,” he says. “ _You know_.”

“Hard not to,” Missouri says dryly. She shifts in her chair.

Gabriel grabs Sam’s hand and squeezes it.

“Okay,” Sam says, trying to get back on track. “So, our dad— when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say… I drew back the curtains for him.”

“What about the fire?” Dean asks. 

“Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.”

“And could you?” Sam asks.

“I…” Missouri shakes her head. “I don’t know what it was,” she says, softly. She shakes her head. “Oh, but it was evil.”

“Yellow Eyes,” Gabriel mutters.

“You’ve seen him,” Missouri says.

“Bastard tried to kill me. Yeah, I’ve seen him.”

“You might be one of God’s angels, but while you’re in my house, you’ll keep those words outta your mouth,” Missouri says, sternly. She stands from her chair and gazes out a window.

“Alright, alright,” Gabriel says, putting his hands up in surrender. 

“So… you think Yellow Eyes is back in that house?” Missouri asks.

“Definitely,” Sam confirms.

“I don’t understand,” Missouri says. She returns to her chair.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?” Missouri asks.

“I don’t know,” Sam says. “But Dad going missing and Gabriel being attacked and now this house happening all at once— it just feels like something’s starting.”

Gabriel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, looking at Sam. Sam looks back at him, confused.

“That’s a comforting thought,” Dean mutters.

-

Child escapes playpen.

The fridge holds his sweet prize.

The door shuts him in.

-

The Winchesters and Gabriel return to the house with Missouri. Jenny answers the door with Ritchie in her arms. 

“Sam, Dean, Gabe. What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Hey, Jenny,” Sam says, in that soft and gentle voice of his. “This is our friend, Missouri.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house,” Dean says. “You know, for old time’s sake.”

“You know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy,” Jenny says.

“Listen, Jenny, it’s important,” Dean insists.

Missouri smacks the back of Dean’s head.

“Ow!”

“Give the poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” Missouri asks Dean. “Forgive this boy, he means well, he’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out,” she says to Jenny.

Dean looks stunned. Gabriel contains his snort.

“About what?” Jenny asks, cagedly.

“About this house,” Missouri says.

“What are you talking about?” Jenny gives Missouri a polite but vacant smile, nervous about what Missouri has to say but even more nervous about looking crazy for being excited about learning.

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” Missouri says, continuing her kindness. “You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?”

“Who are you?” Jenny asks.

“We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing,” Missouri says. “But you’re gonna have to trust us, just a little.”

Jenny looks unsure, but she allows them into the house. Missouri leads the boys into Sari’s bedroom.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it,” Missouri explains.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.”

With those words, a shudder almost goes through the room, or perhaps the entire house. Sam looks up at the ceiling, as though he’ll see his mother or Gabriel up there, and grips Gabriel’s hand harder.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, cupcake,” Gabriel says. 

Missouri looks around the room, reading it, then smirks when Dean pulls out his EMF meter. “That an EMF?”

“Yeah,” Dean says.

“Amateur,” Missouri mutters. 

Gabriel snorts.

Dean glares at her, then nudges Sam to show him the meter is beeping wildly.

“I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom,” Missouri says.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam asks.

Missouri nods.

“How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here,” Missouri says. It’s somethin’ different.”

Gabriel elbows Dean’s side with a _told you so_ look.

“What is it?” Dean asks.

“Not _it_.” Missouri throws open the closet. “ _Them_. There’s more than one spirit in this place.” She stands in the middle of the closet, looking at the three men.

“What are they doing here?” Dean asks.

“They’re here because of what happened to your family,” Missouri explains, approaching the trio. “You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam says.

“Okay, basically, this house is super attractive to paranormal creatures— you know, ghosts and all that jazz— because of what happened here,” Gabriel explains, glancing at Missouri, both for permission to speak and to offer support. While their styles are different, Gabriel has to admit that he’s a huge fan of Ms. Missouri Moseley, and not just because she likes to put Dean in his place. She’s powerful. He can acknowledge that. “And basically, Jenny and the kiddos, they got a nasty ol’ poltergeist. I mean, one that’ll make most other ghosts you ever dealt with look like Casper.”

“It won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead,” Missouri finishes. 

“You— both of you, actually— said there was more than one spirit,” Sam says.

“There is,” Missouri says. “I just can’t quite make out the second one.” She walks around the room, looking for anything.

“It’s hiding,” Gabriel agrees. “It doesn’t want to be seen.”

“Well, one thing’s for damn sure— nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again,” Dean says, full of determination. “So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

-

The Winchesters and Gabriel sit around a table at Missouri’s house with her, the table covered in jars of herbs and roots like the typical idea of a witch’s house. Gabriel admires her arsonal. 

“So, what is all this stuff, anyway?” Dean asks, sprinkling some onto the table.

“Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends,” Missouri says, pointing out specifics and then vaguely gesturing at everything else. She leaves for a moment to gather something else.

“Sammy, can’t your weird angel boyfriend… I dunno, exorcise the house or somethin’?” Dean asks.

“You know, Dean-O, I’m not the solution to every problem you’ve ever had,” Gabriel says. “And you didn’t come to me for help. You came to Missouri. You either do it her way, or you don’t do it at all.” He crosses his arms.

Dean glares at Sam, mouthing _archangel_ , then sighs. “What are we supposed to do with all this?”

“We’re gonna put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house,” Missouri says. She returns to the table with a small wooden box and takes a seat.

“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the drywall,” Dean mutters. “Jenny’s gonna love that.”

“She’ll live,” Missouri says, slyly.

“And this’ll destroy the spirits?” Sam asks.

“It should,” Missouri says. “It should purify the house completely. We’ll each take a floor.” While Missouri speaks, Dean presses a piece of something to his tongue, making a face at the taste. Gabriel smirks at his stupidity. “But we work fast,” Missouri continues, steadfastly ignoring the others to focus on Sam. “Once the spirits realize what we’re up to, things are gonna get bad.”

-

Missouri walks Jenny and her kids outside the house, Gabriel by her side.

“Look, I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you kids here alone,” Jenny says.

“Just take your kids to the movies or somethin’, and it’ll be over by the time you get back,” Missouri reassures her. 

“Hey,” Gabriel says, giving Jenny a reassuring look, that sparkling-eyed face he spent so long perfecting. “Everything’s gonna be okay, right? You and the kiddos— we’re not gonna let anything happen to you. It’s all gonna be peachy keen here in the old Winchester house.” He adds an easy-going little smile.

Jenny, hesitantly, leaves with her kids.

“I think it’s best you stay out here,” Missouri tells Gabriel. “There’s no telling if your presence will make it upset.”

“My presence makes everything upset,” Gabriel says, but he snaps up his pink DS and visits his Nintendogs regardless. Missouri turns to walk inside. “Hey, Missouri,” he says.

She turns to face him.

“Make sure you take care of those boys. They’re a lot like their daddy. Dumb and far too ready to jump into fights.”

Missouri smiles at that. “Exactly like their father,” she says, and walks into the house.

Sam goes into a room with a hammer, kneeling by the wall. He uses the hammer to hit against the dark floral wallpaper without rhythm. Behind him, a plug on the other side of the room unplugs itself and a lamp moves on its own. The plug, snakelike, slithers its way towards Sam.

In the kitchen, Dean punches the beige-colored wall with a hatchet. A drawer behind him opens by itself, preparing to strike.

Missouri looks around the basement, bringing a bag full of herbs to a little hole in the wall. A table slides towards her, pinning her against the wall. She screams in pain and surprise.

Dean hears a noise in the kitchen, ducking as a knife throws itself into the cabinet behind him. He drops fully to the ground, flipping a table onto its side for protection and more knives lodge themselves in the wood, dangerously close to his face.

Sam chops through the wall with the garish floral wallpaper. He turns around when the lamp crashes to the ground. The cord wraps around his neck, bringing him to the ground while it chokes him, leaving the bag of herbs discarded next to him. He picks up the bag, trying fruitlessly to throw it towards the hole in the wall.

Gabriel, outside the house, looks away from his Nintendogs to snap his fingers.

The table scoots away from Missouri. The cord drops from around Sam’s neck. The knives stop flinging themselves towards Dean.

Sam shoves the bag of herbs inside the hole in the wall. A blinking white light fills the room like smoke, then disappears.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” Gabriel mutters, returning to petting his virtual puppies.

-

The Winchesters and Missouri stand in the wrecked kitchen. Gabriel snaps in beside Sam, having the decency to make his DS disappear, looking at the crime scene.

“You sure this is over?” Sam asks Missouri.

“I’m sure,” Missouri says. “Why? Why do you ask?”

“Ah, never mind.” Sam sighs, wrapping his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders. “It’s nothin’, I guess.”

Jenny enters the house, flipping on the lightswitch. “Hello? We’re home,” she announces. She comes into the kitchen and looks around, shocked at the disaster. “What happened?”

“Hi, sorry,” Sam says, sweetly. “Um, we’ll—we'll pay for all of this.”

Dean looks confused.

“Don’t you worry,” Missouri says. “Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.

Dean doesn’t move.

Missouri turns to face him. “Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.”

Dean walks away, annoyed.

“And don’t do cuss at me!”

Dean continues walking away, muttering beneath his breath. Gabriel laughs.

-

The Winchesters and Gabriel sit in the Impala, outside of the house, Sam slumped against Gabriel’s side. The light in Jenny’s bedroom switches off.

“Alright, so tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asks, irritably.

“I don’t know,” Sam says. “I—I just… I still have a bad feeling.”

“Why?” Dean asks. “Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.”

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all,” Sam says.

Dean sighs deeply, exhaustion joining the annoyance in his voice. “Yeah, well, problem is, I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” He slides down in his seat and closes his eyes. 

Gabriel looks up at Jenny’s bedroom window just to see her screaming. “Sam!” he says. “Sam, look!”

Sam looks out the window and gasps. “Dean! Dean!”

Gabriel zaps them out of the Impala and into the house. 

“You grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny,” Dean commands.

The figure of fire stands in Sari’s closet.

Dean rushes to Jenny’s bedroom and yanks on the door, finding it locked despite the handle jiggling on both sides. “Jenny!” he yells.

“I can’t open the door!” Jenny yells, desperate.

“Stand back!” Dean commands. He kicks down the door and takes Jenny downstairs.

“No, my kids!” Jenny says.

“Sam’s got your kids, come on,” Dean says.

With Ritchie in his arms, Sam enters Sari’s bedroom, following her screams for help. For a moment, all he can do is stare at the figure of fire as though he knows it, but he snaps himself from his stupor. He rushes to Sari’s bed and scoops her up in his other arm.

“Don’t look,” he says. “Don’t look!” 

Gabriel zaps them to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Alright, Sarai, take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don’t look back,” Sam commands, stooping down to her level.

An invisible force brings Sam to the floor, dragging him into another room, where he crashes into a table. Sari screams. Gabriel zaps the kids outside with Jenny, staying with Sam.

Dean kneels down to Sari’s eye level. “Sari, where’s Sam?”

“He’s inside. Something’s got him,” Sari sobs out.

Jenny stays with her children, asking them if they’re alright, comforting them carefully.

Dean looks at the front door, which slams shut on its own. He opens the Impala’s trunk and retrieves a rifle and ax, rushing to the front door and chopping away at it, a slow process that takes far too long for his comfort.

The invisible force pins Sam against the wall, leaving him unable to move his body. The fiery figure walks towards him.

Dean finally breaks into the house and runs into the kitchen, standing in front of Sam and raising his gun at the fiery figure.

Gabriel shakes his head at Dean.

“No, don’t! Don’t!” Sam insists.

“What?! Why?!” Dean asks.

“Because I know who it is. I can see her now,” Sam says. 

The fire vanishes, and in front of them is Mary Winchester, with her nightgown and blond hair, looking exactly as she did when she died.

“Mom?” Dean asks, softly, hand shaking on the gun as he lowers it. His face softens entirely as he looks at his mother, the woman he hasn’t seen since he was a child.

Mary smiles, stepping over to Dean. “Dean,” she says, in the sweet, loving tones of a mother.

Dean’s eyes fill with tears. 

Mary walks from him and goes to Sam. Dean never takes his eyes from her, his beautiful mother standing before him. “Sam,” she says.

Sam smiles weakly, crying. He doesn’t even remember Mary, doesn’t have what Dean does other than self-guilt for what happened to her, as though the fire was his fault and the aching gape of _what could have been_ , had life been better. 

Mary’s smile fades. “I’m sorry.”

“For—For what?” Sam chokes out.

Mary looks at him sadly, saying nothing. Then she walks away from her sons and looks at the ceiling. “You get out of my house. And let go of my son,” she commands. She bursts back into flames. When she’s entirely covered, the fire climbs up to the ceiling and disappears, leaving nothing behind.

Whatever’s been holding Sam to the wall lets go of him. He walks over to Dean and Gabriel, looking at them both, amazed, tears still glazing his eyes. “Now it’s over,” he says.

-

The next morning, Dean stands by the Impala with Jenny as they look through the old photos she’s found. A picture of John and Mary by a lake, a picture of little Dean holding baby Sam in a chair. He holds them as though they are the most precious things in the world to him, as though he’ll break them if he looks too hard at them.

“Thanks for these,” Dean says.

“Don’t thank me, they’re yours,” Jenny says, kindly.

Dean places the trunk of photos in the backseat.

Sam and Gabriel sit on the front steps of the house, leaning against each other with their hands linked together. Missouri joins them, setting her purse on the step beside her.

“Well, there are no spirits in there anymore, this time for sure,” Missouri says.

“Not even my mom?” Sam asks.

“No,” Missouri says.

“What happened?” Sam asks.

Missouri looks at Gabriel, giving him the go-ahead to explain.

“See, your mom and that poltergeist— they sorta cancelled each other out, see? Their energies did. When your mom went after it, she, uh… destroyed herself,” Gabriel says.

Sam swallows. “Why would she do something like that?”

“Well, to protect her boys, of course,” Missouri says.

Sam nods, tears in his eyes. 

Missouri goes to rest her hand on his shoulder, then stops herself from doing it. “Sam, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sam asks.

“You sensed it was there, didn’t you? Even when I couldn’t. Even when—” she eyes Gabriel, with a moment of suspicion— “Gabriel couldn’t.”

Gabriel shrugs, minimally apologetic. 

“What’s happening to me?” Sam asks, sounding small.

“I know I should have all the answers, but I don’t know,” Missouri says.

Sam turns to Gabriel, eyes pleading.

“Lollipop, I’ll tell you when I know,” he says. “I promise I will.”

“Sam, you ready?” Dean asks from the Impala.

Sam nods and goes to the car with Gabriel. Jenny thanks them all.

“Don’t you boys be strangers,” Missouri calls.

“We won’t,” Dean says.

Missouri gives him a knowing look and adjusts her cardigan. “See you around,” she says.

Jenny waves them off. They smile, hop in the Impala, and drive off.

-

Father stands in room.

Son didn’t recognize him.

He searches for truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! It's, uh, been a while. Sorry about that. I got a job, graduated with my degrees, wrassled with my depression (and have been coping pretty poorly), and trying this whole _being a real adult_ thing, so on and so forth. But I've returned with my boys! This one has been fun to write for a multitude of reasons, mostly because I absolutely love writing Dean getting read for filth, and also because I genuinely believe we were robbed of quality Missouri Moseley content in the rest of the show. 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on the series! Did you like this work? What do you think is going to happen next? Is there anything you'd like to see? (I'm going to be posting a Connective Tissue in the next couple of days. Any guesses on what it'll be?)
> 
> If you're interested in some misc. updates on fics/what I'm up to/what I'm currently into, I invite you to check out my [tumblr](https://the-one-everyone-forgets.tumblr.com/).


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